Say you’ll never leave me

Peanut-butter and jelly on toast
and the end to all things
Lana del Rey crooning in a way
I have come to count upon

Eggs boiling-keeping simple
the room taking on a balmy
sultry foggy feeling
in the thick of mid-west winter

Shall we dance? Let us
make the best of it, with our
dead leaves to be raked
our car rusting up from the bottom

My sepia view of the yard
our birthdays looming, suddenly
less of a threat, doing their best
to be more of a promise

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